


Into The Light

by littlemisscurious



Series: Tom, Evanee and Belle [2]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Comfort, Developing Relationship, F/M, Hurt, Struggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sequel to In The Dark...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I do not own Tom Hiddleston nor have I ever met him. This is a work of fiction and any similarities to living persons are purely incidental.

**Into The Light**

“What are you doing?,” he asks, surprised, while his blue eyes roam over my half-packed bag.

“I’m packing,” I state. _Simple as that._

“Well yes, I can see that. But why?” Slowly, he gets up from my bed, snatching one of my shirts away, holding it just out of my reach. I growl at him.

“Because I don’t belong here. I never did and I never will. Now give me my shirt back!,” I hiss and look at him, annoyed. I just want to go, get out of here.

“No, I won’t. You can’t just leave me!” His voice is calm, reserved, almost indifferent. But I know it’s not indifference to me, it’s indifference to my aggressiveness. I can’t help it. Ever since I left that place I’m constantly on edge, defending myself and my actions everywhere and every time, whether necessary or not.

I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to calm down, before I resume packing my bag. I don’t have a lot. A few clothes, a few books, a notebook with blank pages, the first one I ever owned, and a few pencils.

Closing the zipper, I look at Tom, stretching my hand out towards him, towards my shirt. White, pale lines are covering the skin on my arms, reminders of the endless number of scars that he left on my body and my soul.

 

It’s been six months now. Six months of freedom and I feel like I’m in a cage all over. A precious, luxurious cage, for sure, but a cage nevertheless. I know he means well. I know he wants to help, genuinely help me, but I am not sure he can. I am not sure I can allow that.

He looks at me, stubbornly, my shirt still in his hands, having obviously no intention of giving it back to me any time soon.

“Well keep it then,” I mumble and head for the door, a little sad that he keeps one of my favourite shirts but I am too stubborn, too proud to make a scene about it.

 

“Wait!”, he calls out. “Please!” Quieter this time, almost a whisper. “Please stay! Just one more day!”

I hesitate, halfway out of the room already, bag in hand, aiming for the staircase. Slowly, I put down the bag on the dark mahogany floor and turn around, back towards him.

“And what if I do that, Tom? What will have changed until tomorrow?,” I ask quietly, my eyes fixed on his, questioning, tired, defeated.

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. But maybe everything. At least we would have tried,” he mumbles. He looks so sad, biting his bottom lip, his long, slender fingers gliding over the fabric of my shirt.

 

Carefully, I take a few steps towards him, stopping a mere few feet away.

“Tom, please don’t get me wrong. I know I owe you. I am so thankful for what you have done, for everything. I don’t take it for granted and I hope that one day I’ll be able to repay you, in whatever way…” His index finger on my lips interrupts me gently.

“I don’t want repayment. I just want you, here with me. As my companion, my friend.” I can see tears in his bright blue eyes, wanting to say more, and I swallow, lifting my hand up to his cheek to wipe the first few salty drops away that are rolling down his skin.

“I can’t,” I breathe, before pressing my lips onto his cheek for a brief moment.

“I’m sorry,” I add just as quietly before going back to the door, grabbing my bag, and leaving the house with it shortly after.

 

I can hear his footsteps behind me on the stairs. The door behind me opens again and his naked feet are padding over the dry, heated-up concrete of his driveway.

“I love you!”

Three words. Nothing more. That’s all he says, standing there next to his shiny, black car in front of his cosy, Victorian house with the white fence and neatly trimmed hedge.

I stop, hearing my bag fall to the floor with a thud.

Again, the padding of naked feet on dry concrete.

 

“I love you,” he whispers, standing right behind me.

Slowly, his fingertips trail down my arms, like feathers, leaving goosebumps behind where they touch my skin.

“I know he hurt you. I know he broke you. I know he took your life.” I try to swallow back my tears as he says that but without much success. Such plain words, such harsh truths.

“But I’m not him. I want to heal you. I want to fix you. I want to give you your life back. Bit by bit, day by day, step by step. I know it won’t be easy and I don’t expect you to forget. But please, please allow me to try!”

His fingertips still linger on my skin right at the crooks of my elbows. No pressure, no commitment, just a gentle touch.

A start.

 

“I’m not sure I can be fixed,” I breathe, my voice hoarse and broken from my tears. I don’t dare turning around.

“Let’s not give up before we’ve tried, okay?” I can hear him smile as he says that. An innocent smile, an optimistic smile, a smile so full of hope…and love.

I can sense him taking another step towards me, his chest almost touching my back now but not quite. He is careful, allowing me room to breathe and act, aware of what I’ve gone through and how much I resent being cornered and constrained.

 

Now it’s up to me to make a move. Two choices, that’s what he offers me.

I can take a step forward, leaving his property and his life. Or I can take a step back, into his arms and his sanctuary.

And while I stand there, contemplating my opportunities, I realise I do not only owe him, I owe myself as well.

I’ve fought.

I’ve suffered.

I’ve killed.

All in order to live.

And isn’t that exactly what he offers me? A life? _My_ life?

 

The pebbles underneath my shoes scrunch as I turn around to face him. His ginger hair looks golden in the sun and his tanned skin glows, soft and smooth. It’s his eyes that capture my attention though. Shimmering in a lively mix of blue and green and grey, they are looking at me, through me, right into my soul.

He knows. He smiles.

And so do I.


	2. Chapter 2

Pulling the blanket closer around my shoulders, I close my eyes, listening to the regular patter of raindrops on the conservatory roof. Above me, London’s night sky glows orange over the city.

It’s never really dark here, never really night. The city’s multitudinous lights tend to keep it awake and alive and constantly on edge. But then maybe it’s just me who’s on edge every night.

I can hear Tom enter the conservatory behind me and I open my eyes again. His skin looks pale in the light shining through the windows as he stops next to me, clad only in a pair of black boxer shorts, a plastic bag filled with ice cubes held against his left eye.

“Do you mind?,” he mumbles and points to the empty space on the bench next to me. I shake my head and he sits down, leaving a bit of room between us.

 

“I’m sorry Tom.” I look over to him, his lean frame looking fragile and defeated as he adjusts the cold bag on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay. I shouldn’t have done that,” he replies, quietly, but without looking at me.

“I shouldn’t have done that either,” I breathe, feeling tears well up in my eyes again while I turn around, turn towards him. Carefully, I take the icecold bag out of his hand and away from his eye. It’s swollen and slightly purple already and slowly, gently, I let my fingertip run over the bruise. He flinches but doesn’t move away.

His injury is my fault, my doing. I feel terrible and he knows it but that doesn’t change it being there.

I hit him. I hit him because he put his arms around me while I was asleep. Waking up to this, I immediately saw _him_ , felt _him_ , smelt _him_. But of course it wasn’t _him_ , it was Tom.

Tom, who had no intention of hurting me, no intention of forcing me to do something that I didn’t want to do. He simply wanted to hold me close, protect me, love me. And I repaid his love with a punch in the face.

_Well done me._

“I am so, so sorry,” I whisper again, feeling tears roll down my cheeks but unlike previous times, Tom doesn’t wipe them away. He keeps his hands in his lap, fingers intertwined and palms pressed together.

 

It’s been two months since he told me he loves me. Two months of me trying to get used to him coming closer, slowly but consistently. Two months of me trying not to move away every single time he tries to love me.

Of course he craves physical contact. Why wouldn’t he! And deep inside I crave the same. I want to be held, I want to be loved, I want to be touched, gently and intimately. By Tom and by Tom only.

But I can’t yet allow it. As if by reflex, my body tenses up, my mind shuts down, my emotions hide in the farthest corner they can find. Out of fear, out of habit.

I drop the cold pack onto the bench between us where it leaves a damp mark on the padding. He doesn’t pick it up. Instead, he gets up from the bench and walks closer to the conservatory door leading out into the small garden.

 

The dark green grass glistens with rain and the neighbour’s patio light is being reflected in the puddle right in front of Tom’s feet as he opens the glass door. The heavy smell of rain wafts into the room, leaving a dampness in the air and despite the warmth, a shiver runs down my spine.

I look up, as I hear his naked feet stepping onto the wooden patio and shortly after onto the wet grass. Wiping the tears off my face, I get up myself and, leaving the blanket on the seat, I follow him outside. His wet hair is sticking to his forehead and his boxers are drenched immediately by the heavy rain falling from the sky. He doesn’t care as he turns his face towards it, eyes closed and arms hanging limply on his sides.

He looks so peaceful right now. But I know, deep down, he is far from being content and happy. He is angry and helpless and sad. Because of me.

 

Slowly, step by step, I walk closer towards him. I know he can hear me, hear my small feet on the wet ground but still he doesn’t change position.

I hesitate before I place my right hand between his shoulder blades. His skin is warm under my touch, despite the rain running over it, and I smile inevitably. Carefully, I let my fingers and palm run over his back, tracing the outline of his spine while his muscles tense under the touch of my fingertips until I let my hand rest lightly on the right side of his waist. I repeat the same with my left hand, placing it on the left side of his waist shortly after and still he hasn’t moved.

“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbles, turning his head towards me a little.

“I know. But I want to,” I reply, letting my fingertips stroke his skin as he turns around entirely. I have to look up to meet his eyes but I do it gladly. I want to see them, see him, just as I want him to see me.

 

Hooking my fingers under the hem of my shirt, I pull the soaked fabric over my head and drop it onto the wet grass beside us where it lands with a quiet thud. I can see the muscles in his upper arms twitch in the corner of my eyes but he doesn’t touch me. Not yet.

Raindrops run over my skin, leaving thin trails behind as they roll over my shoulders, my collarbones, my breasts, before trickling off my nipples and landing on my feet. I swallow lightly as I gently take his hand and place it on my skin.

I want to feel his touch.

I want to feel alive.

He hesitates, waiting for me to make another move. Of course he’s a little wary after what happened earlier. But nevertheless I can see he wants it, he wants me, and that is probably what gives me the courage to take his other hand and place it on my chest, right on top of my heart.

He knows I can’t say it yet, but I want him to know that I’m learning to love for the first time in my life, to love him out of all people that there are. It’s a long journey, a hard journey. For both of us. And it’s only just begun.

 

I close my eyes and focus on the touch of his hands on my body. His hands emanate warmth which makes my skin tingle with anticipation and delight while the rain still pours from the heavens, drowning out the noises of the city around us.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears and my blood rush through my veins as he slowly, carefully, lovingly traces the shape of my body with his fingertips. Feathery touches, tenderly placed, so unlike what I’m used to.

With each brush of his skin on mine, he wipes away a little piece of these horrible memories that still haunt me day and night.

With each touch of his lips on my body, he heals one of the little wounds spread over my body and soul.

With each sigh leaving my mouth, I get rid of another part of _him_ still occupying my very being.

With each breath filling my lungs, I inhale another part of Tom.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up to Tom singing quietly under the shower in the ensuite bathroom of his, no of our bedroom. With a sleepy smile I turn onto my back, dragging the thick, padded sheets with me which are protecting me from the autumnal morning cold wafting in through the half-open windows.

He’s been out running again, I suppose, as he does pretty much every morning. I know this is his time to think, to come to terms with the daily happenings in our shared household, in his life. It’s also his time to get away from me for a little while. I don’t take that personally but rather envy him for it. I would love to get away from me as well every now and then.

Things are improving, though. I am improving, slowly but steadily.

I listen to his voice for a moment, the words of Michael Bublé’s ‘Everything’ echoing through the tiled bathroom mixed with the patter of the water onto the shower base. He’s not the best singer, I guess we both know that, but he’s definitely a passionate one.

I snicker quietly as I imagine him using the shampoo bottle as a microphone while I turn onto my side again. It’s still dark outside and a quick look onto his digital alarm clock tells me it’s not even six. Closing my eyes again, I slowly drift back to a peaceful sleep, accompanied by Tom’s slightly off-tune singing.

_And I can’t believe that I’m your man and I get to kiss you baby just because I can..._

 

As I wake up the next time, the sun is peeking through the curtains, tickling the tip of my nose. The bathroom door is slightly ajar but no noise is coming from there anymore. Instead, I hear Tom rummaging around in the kitchen downstairs, the smell of a Full English Breakfast wafting up the stairs, beckoning me to go down to join him.

Still a little sleepy, I disentangle myself from the bedsheets and shudder slightly as my naked feet touch the cold wooden floor. On my way out of the bedroom, I take Tom’s dark, woollen cardigan and throw it around my shoulders before slowly padding down the stairs.

He is whistling to himself as he prepares breakfast for the both of us in just a pair of dark boxer shorts, and for a moment I just remain leaning in the doorway, watching him move through the kitchen with ease, a loving smile on my face.

How much my life has changed in the last year. From living in hell I moved on to heaven on earth. Instead of hits and insults, I now receive caresses and compliments. Instead of anger, I am now met with infinite patience and love. _Things like these don't normally happen to girls like me, right?_

 

“That smells delicious,” I finally mumble and he turns around, surprised and looking as if I just caught him doing something he shouldn’t have done.

“Oh no, you’re up,” he sighs before adding an apologetic smile. “Sorry, that came out wrong,” he mumbles and, after turning off the stove, he walks towards me. “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” he confesses shyly while his arms snake gently around my waist.

“Shall I go back up and pretend I didn’t see you?,” I ask lovingly and let my hands rest on his naked chest. He seems to contemplate my suggestion for a moment but before he has the chance to answer, I press my lips quickly onto his.

“I’ll see you upstairs,” I whisper into our kiss and leave his embrace to go back up to our bedroom where I snuggle back between the sheets.

 

A black clothes bag, the Emporio Armani logo shining golden on its middle, is hanging at the wardrobe containing Tom’s suit for tonight’s event and I sigh silently.

So this is going to be another evening I will spend on my own. Another evening where I will have to do my best to keep these dark thoughts threatening my happiness at bay, keep them out of my new life. I know they don’t belong here, they don’t belong with me anymore.

I am not the same woman I was before. This is not the life I had before. He is not the man that dominated my life before. But every time Tom has to go somewhere - leave the house, the city, the country - the doubts come back, the memories come back, driving me into a corner and reducing me to a pitiful pile of tears and nightmares.

Tom doesn’t know. Or at least I hope he doesn’t. _Well, he probably does know, he’s a clever man, who are you trying to fool?_

He is already doing everything he possibly can to make me happy, to make me feel safe and loved and wanted. But it’s hard for him as well. It’s leaving marks on his body and soul and it makes me feel guilty. I never wanted to be a burden, I never wanted to be the stone blocking his way. I know that’s not how he sees me but that’s how I see me in those moments of loneliness and desperation.

 

His smiling face appearing in the doorway distracts me from the thoughts of the lonesome evening ahead and I sit up a little.  
“Oh you shouldn’t have done that,” I gasp in feigned surprise and he simply rolls his eyes before sticking his tongue out at me playfully.

Placing the tray with our breakfast carefully on my lap, he then joins me under the thick blanket, his cold feet making me shudder as they touch mine underneath the bedsheets.  
“Sorry,” he mumbles and looks at me apologetically. _He does that a lot, apologising._  
“It’s alright,” I whisper with a smile and kiss him softly on the cheek. “Thank you for making breakfast. It looks and smells delicious,” I add and take the coffee mug into my hands.

The intoxicating smell of the dark brown liquid manages to wake up even the last tired fibre of my body and I sigh contentedly as the first sip warms my mouth, my throat, and my tummy.  
“What?,” I grin as I look over to Tom, who simply beams at me, his dark wavy hair messy and unruly, sticking up in all directions.  
“Nothing,” he replies, smiling and shaking his head before he aims for a slice of toast. We eat in content and comfortable silence, only the occasional chewing or slurping sound breaking the tranquility.

 

“Where are you going tonight?,” I ask quietly after we’re finished eating, trying to sound casual while still holding onto my almost empty coffee mug like a drowning sailor onto a buoy.  
He hesitates for a moment, busying himself with the removal of the tray from the bed before he sits back up and looks at me. _He seems nervous._  
“It’s the premiere of ‘The Deep Blue Sea’ at the London Film Festival tonight.” I nod. He’s told me about that film, swooning over working with Rachel Weisz while doing so.  
“Sounds good,” I smile, looking at him shortly before focusing on the porcelain in my hands again.

“Come with me,” he mumbles and my eyes dart back up to his.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Come with me tonight,” he repeats, his blue orbs staring intently into my own.

I let out a dry laugh.  
“Very funny, Tom.” I stop as I see the earnest and honest expression on his face.  
“You...you want me to go there with you? Like...officially?” The words leave my lips in a whisper and at first I am not sure whether he heard me but he nods shortly after.

Gently, he takes my hand into his, his thumb caressing the back of my hand in slow, circling movements.  
“I...I know that it’s not all perfect yet and believe me, I will not force you to come with me, but...it’s been almost a year. You have to start living.” He looks at me with pleading eyes and I have to swallow back a few tears.  
“It’s not that easy, Tom,” I whisper, letting my eyes drop from his face down to our hands.

“I’m not saying it’s easy. I know it isn’t.” His hot breath is tickling my ear as he continues. “I know he’s still there sometimes, in your mind, in your dreams. And as much as I hate him, I’m afraid he’ll always be there, somehow, somewhere.” I try to protest but he closes my lips with a gentle touch of his finger.  
“I know he will always be a part of your past but I want to be a part of your present, I want to be a part of your future. And I want you to be the same for me.”

For a while I just look at him, his finger still resting on my lips, his thumb still caressing my hand. Here he is, everything I’ve ever wanted, offering me a present, a future, a life by his side. _Again._

“I’m not sure I’m quite ready for all these cameras yet,” I mumble against his fingertip and, tracing the outline of my lips, he slowly moves his hand to my cheek.  
“Well, you could avoid these and meet me in the cinema after I’m done with the posing and smiling,” he offers, his eyes gleaming hopefully in the bright morning sun.

“I...I think that might be alright then,” I smile, shyly, as he breathes a sigh of relief and lets his forehead rest against mine.

“Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Smoothing down the organza fabric of my teal coloured dress, I look out over the harbour from the balcony of our hotel room. The sun is just about to set, bathing the white ships in the water and the tents on the wide, wooden docks into a soft orange light, and even though it’s still surprisingly warm, the light breeze manages to send a shiver down my arms.

I can hear Tom shuffling behind me and as he curses quietly, I turn around to look at what he’s doing.

“Are you alright?,” I ask with a gentle smile, leaning onto the iron railing behind me.

Sighing theatrically, he steps out onto the balcony, looking dapper in his black suit with the crisp white button-down shirt underneath.

“My bow tie hates me,” he mumbles, pouting like a little boy and I laugh quietly before taking it out of his hands.

“Let me help you,” I smile and gently pull him a little closer so I can fix his Alexander McQueen bow tie with the black skulls on it.

 

Smoothing the fabric with my fingertips after I’m finished, I look up at his sun-kissed face. He looks a little tired after the eventful journey we had last night but other than that he is his cheerful self and the wide smile never seems to leaves his face. It’s his first time at the Festival de Cannes and he is terribly excited, especially as his newest film is having its premiere tonight.

“Thank you for being here with me,” he whispers, his hands resting lightly on my waist, while looking at me with his bright blue eyes.

“It’s my honour to be here with you,” I reply just as quietly and also a little shyly.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, the regular drumbeat quickening as I inhale the scent of his cologne mixed with the seabreeze and the unmistakable smell that is his and his alone.

“You look so very beautiful, have I told you that already?,” he mumbles, one of his hands slowly gliding up my arm, my neck, my cheek. I know I’m blushing as I slowly shake my head and drop my gaze.

After over two years you might think I get used to him being all lovely and attentive and charming but the truth is, I don’t. I still catch myself staring at him every now and then, unable to believe that he’s mine, that he chose me of all women.

After over two years, I can still get lost in the depth of his bondi blue eyes and I still get weak knees when he touches me, whispers my name, tells me that he loves me. Me and no one else.

 

Smiling, I close my eyes, as he presses his soft lips to my temple, his hand still resting on my cheek, his thumb caressing my skin.

Gently, he raises my chin and I look up again, right into the blue pools that are his eyes.

“Are you ready?,” he whispers with a loving smile and I nod, causing him to slowly break away from me and head to the door.

“Tom?”

He turns around, a questioning expression on his features.

“I just…I just wanted to say that I am very, very proud of you.” He smiles widely, walking back the few steps he had taken away from me. “And I wanted to say that I love you,” I breathe, a little nervously.

“I love you, too! You have no idea how much,” he replies quietly before I can feel his lips softly on mine. Snaking my arms around his neck, I pull him gently closer and he smiles into the kiss, his hands resting lovingly on my waist.

 

Proudly, I get up from my seat alongside everybody else in the cinema while we applaud the cast and crew for their fantastic work. His performance in the film is outstanding and he, as well as the others, deserve this standing ovation more than anyone. Tom’s face lights up as he looks around, astonished and a little embarrassed. _He still can’t get over the fact that people admire him so very much._

Quickly, I wipe a tear of pride away that threatens to roll over my cheek while I watch him lovingly. Of course he sees it. And of course his arm is immediately around my waist, his lips instantly on my cheek.

Gently, I rest my hand on the side of his face, enjoying this short but for me so very important moment of intimacy amidst the cheers and excitement around us.

Leaving the cinema with everybody else, I gently shove him in the direction of Tilda, John and Jim.

“Go ahead! Enjoy the moment! I’ll see you at the afterparty,” I whisper with a smile and kiss him softly on the cheek before falling back into the crowd where Luke smiles at me knowingly.

The young man has become a very dear friend to me over the last two years and even though he does not know about my past, he has accepted me on Tom’s side from the very first moment we met and has been lovely and supportive ever since. I am a very lucky girl.

 

“Wow, what a night,” Tom mumbles with a huge smile on his face as we finally stumble back into our hotel room just as the sun starts to rise. Throwing my heels on the floor next to the door, I follow him out onto the balcony where he is taking his suit coat off, leaving it on the table next to him.

The sound of my naked feet padding on the tiled floor disrupting the silence around us, I gently put my arms around his waist, snuggling up to him and enjoying the warmth and smell of his body.

The celebrations have left me tired and exhausted and I am glad to finally be alone with him again. For a moment we just remain like this, listening to the city waking up around us, birds singing in the trees below.

After a little while, he turns around in my embrace and snakes his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest.

“Did you enjoy yourself?,” he asks whispering and I nod before I turn my head to look up to him.

“I did. What about you?,” I mumble. He smiles, tired but very happy.

“I did enjoy myself very much. Especially because I had the prettiest and most sought after companion of the evening,” he grins before kissing me gently on the forehead. “And I so love it, when you blush,” Tom adds, his mouth now extremely close to my ear, making my skin tingle and my heart race.

 

A little embarrassed, I bury my face in the crook of his neck before softly pressing a kiss onto it. I can hear him inhaling sharply and I smile against his skin while he lets his hands run over my back, slowly and tenderly.

“Marry me!”

Thinking I must have misheard him, I look up.

“Please, marry me!,” he repeats and all of a sudden I can see nervousness and insecurity shimmering in his eyes as he gently pushes me back a little before going down onto his knee.

“I confess, I didn’t prepare this. God, I don’t even have a ring to give you but…I love you! I love you from the bottom of my heart and I’d be the happiest man in this universe if you were to become my wife!”

Still not quite believing that any of this is happening, I keep looking down at him, tears slowly blurring my vision - and probably ruining my makeup - and my hand shaking a little even though he is holding it in his lovingly.

His eyes never leave mine for a second and mistaking my silence for rejection, he starts apologising. _Again._

“Sorry, I, um…that was probably stupid, I’m an idio-…”

Pressing my lips firmly onto his, I interrupt his tirade and pull him gently up onto his feet at the same time.

“It would be my honour,” I whisper against his lips, tears of happiness still streaming down my face while my hands are deeply buried within the folds of his white shirt.

 

I can feel him smile into our kiss, and now, that the initial surprise and worries are washed away, we both relax further, making ourselves comfortable in each other’s arms and love.

“I can’t believe you’ve just said yes,” he mumbles, amazed, and wipes away my tears gently.

“And I can’t believe you’ve just asked me to marry you,” I reply with a grin and he chuckles lightly before looking at me properly, his hair shimmering golden in the light of the rising sun.

“You just make me so unbelievably happy and complete,” he confesses a little shyly, making my heart race even more.

“And so do you,” I smile in return before my lips find his again.

Thoughts are racing through my mind but at the same time all makes sense as well.

He is the one for me.

He’s seen me at my lowest and still decided to be with me. He’s helped me recover all these long months, and he’s held my hand and my heart when I couldn’t.

He was my cushion and my punching bag, my friend and lover.

We didn’t fall for each other head over heels but rather allowed our love to grow and gain strength day by day, month by month.

Deep down I’ve probably known he’d change my life ever since I met him first but now I am finally ready to accept my happiness, to accept him and his love with all my heart and being.

 

“Evanee Hiddleston…sounds perfect if you ask me,” he grins against my lips and my only reply is another long and seemingly never ending kiss under the morning sun in the south of France.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit my tumblr page http://w-is-for-writing.tumblr.com to find out more about my stories, my characters, and everything else you might be interested in :)


End file.
